This novel seems to aim for a vibe reminiscent of Gabrielle Zevin's Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and I believe it will appeal to fans DNF 40%
This novel seems to aim for a vibe reminiscent of Gabrielle Zevin's Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and I believe it will appeal to fans of that book or of The Animators by Kayla Rae Whitaker, as well as readers who enjoy authors like Meg Wolitzer or Ann Napolitano. I hate to dnf a book so far in, but I can tell that my feelings for Memory Piece won't change. I'm not drawn to the writing, which is passive, heavily reliant on telling rather than showing, and at times impersonal (not restrained in the way Jhumpa Lahiri's is, but more generic).
The first section of the novel follows Giselle, who aspires to become a performance artist. While the novel appears to articulate why she wants to do this, it doesn't convincingly or deeply explore her motivations, let alone why she chooses to express her creativity through these performance pieces. We're presented with shallow artspeak that could easily have been lifted from artybollocks. Ko's portrayal of New York and its artsy milieu lacks the bite, or even substance, of say Ottessa Moshfegh or Rachel Lyon. One of Giselle’s pieces had the potential for further exploration, but the narrative summarises it in a couple of dull paragraphs.
There's a lot of this: periods of Giselle's life are condensed to a few sentences, or at most a couple of paragraphs. While this may allow the author to cover longer periods of time concisely, it comes at the expense of establishing Giselle's character, her arc, her relationships, and her various environments. It seemed to me as if Ko was cramming too much into too little space.
The novel also heavily relies on 80s/90s nostalgia, which is fine, but not when we learn more about certain trends than about the impact of AIDS, which is reduced to an afterthought in a paragraph mentioning that the 'hippie-grunge thing was over'. This felt glib to me. The few episodes we are actually 'shown' seem to exist solely to make a point, such as when a woman asks Giselle to walk with her, leading Giselle to make a banal observation on the matter (which felt wholly unnecessary given the novel’s target audience…).
Not only were Giselle’s pieces pretentious, but they also served to consolidate my negative impression of performance art. Her art seemed to lack depth, as if she was merely selecting the most extra thing to do without much thought behind her choices (as profound as ai art). Yet, I am supposed to find her and her art intriguing? Sure…
There is nothing subtle about Ko's storytelling, and I mostly felt detached, if occasionally irritated by the content of her story. I wish I could have liked this novel, but it wasn't meant to be. If you enjoy book-clubby books, this might be right up your street. Or, if you were a fan of Zevin's bestseller, do not give this one a miss....more
i think i can safely say melissa broder's work is not for me. i find her prose obnoxious & swollen. sure, there might be the odd relatable or wdnf 50%
i think i can safely say melissa broder's work is not for me. i find her prose obnoxious & swollen. sure, there might be the odd relatable or witty sentence, but she is trying too hard to be quirky & edgy. more often than not her jokes don't land (with me). and she has a tendency to rely on grossness but these raunchy descriptions or asides did not strike me as clever or effectively provocative. ...more
this book is the definition of a 'perfectly fine' read, one that will undoubtedly satisfy fans of authors like Katherine Arden, Bridget Collins dnf 15%
this book is the definition of a 'perfectly fine' read, one that will undoubtedly satisfy fans of authors like Katherine Arden, Bridget Collins, or Naomi Novik. however, i am too jaded to fully appreciate its Disneyesque 101 fairy tale elements, especially when paired with such milquetoast storytelling (unlike say books by Zen Cho, Elizabeth Lim, Holly Black, or Juliet Marillier, which have some zing to them).
the familiar tropes—a downtrodden main character who although physically and personality-wise unremarkable is in possession of a 'strange' gift, the domineering employer, the mean aunt, the cautionary "be careful what you wish for" storyline—simply fail to hold my interest.
in comparison to the dynamic prose of Bardugo's Ninth House, the writing here lacks the punch and vibrancy i crave.
maybe it will work for those who have just started getting into historical fiction aimed at adults and haven't read much by authors like Kate Forsyth, Joanne Harris, Sarah Dunant. i can definitely see The Familiar appealing to readers who preferred Bardugo's style in her Grishaverse books over her Alex Stern ones.
if you are interested in this novel, i recommend seeking out reviews from readers who have actually completed it as my review is based on only a small percentage of the book.
Having really liked another novel by Thorne I wanted to like this one too...but I just can't look past the author's bland horror and her depictiondnf
Having really liked another novel by Thorne I wanted to like this one too...but I just can't look past the author's bland horror and her depiction of Italy...
Approximately 20% in, and the horror elements feel like tired clichés, served without any pizzazz. Yet, the novel seems to operate under the belief that it is self-aware, even 'smart,' in its usage of tropes. Take, for instance, a scene where Anna, our mc, sees a figure inside the house and knows she's not 'seeing things' because “she understood angles, perspective. This shape was inside the house.” We also get creepy children, and Anna realizes only later that said children are not her nieces because they are speaking in Italian...all of this happens way too early on. Thorne is spoon-feeding us the horror instead of letting it simmer. While I understand that haunted houses/places have been thoroughly explored in the horror genre, Thorne fails to build suspense, relying instead on a series of very 101 horror elements/scenes. Sometimes, making your characters aware of a place’s wrongness from the get-go can work, but Thorne is no Jackson and lacks the skill to pull this off (in the first pages, we get a trite horror line: “Someone’s in here, Anna thought. Listening.”).
And the characters, oh, where do I begin? This type of obnoxious rich American family is everywhere in the media, and despite the promises of satirical depth, Thorne's take on the wealthy is as shallow as a puddle. The so-called "black sheep" protagonist, supposedly 'real' and unlike the rest of her shallow family, is banal, devoid of any real substance. Certainly, she does not make for a convincing problem child nor is she as interesting/relatable a figure as the narrative wants us to believe.
My biggest issue lies with the author's portrayal of Italy and her usage of the Italian language. It's baffling how little effort was put into researching or consulting actual Italians (yes, ideally more than one) for authenticity. What is it with American authors doing the bare minimum research when setting books abroad? At least consult a few people from the country/culture you are intent on representing your book in before you start writing nonsense or just piling on the stereotypes...
→ Thorne, I don't know who told you that "molto bene" is used in the way you think it's used, but they did you wrong (“She hit the galleries on Friday. L’Accademia. The Uffizi. Molto bene. Overwhelming in the best way.”...?)
→ The protagonist tells us that her Italian 'accent' is good (“Her actual facility with Italian wasn’t nearly as good as her accent.”) when surely it should be pronunciation?
→ A few pages in and we already have stereotypes such as Italians being bad drivers, and Italian men being don juans (leering at women/making inappropriate advances)
→ The description of the villa tries hard to convey an understanding of architecture and interior design but it comes across as name-dropping (“alfresco dining”...). Sure, the narrative tries to be sort of self-aware, as the villa is described as “[M]ore Epcot Italy than the real thing”, but it ultimately fails to pull this off as it immediately flexes its art history knowledge: “And yet there was something idiosyncratic about Villa Taccola. The whole house suggested pentimenti,”. And I failed to be amused by a bathroom being described as “you know, a bathroom—” (why bother including this? is this a house tour? 75 questions with vogue?). Thorne's grasp of Italian art and architecture consists of an overuse of the term "Romanesque".
→ And let's not forget the baffling detail of Anna serving herself a "cold prosecco" – because apparently, warm and/or room temperature prosecco is a common occurrence for this moneyed woman who claims to be an enthusiast of Italian culture.
→ Anna's Italian is so good supposedly that when she goes for a drink in a restaurant, she is given an Italian menu (her companions are given English menus)...I do not believe that for a second. Saying a few words in Italian won't magically make Italians give you an Italian menu. I don't get given Italian menus. The waitress somehow compliments her on her translation skills (“Anna translated for the others as best she could, rewarded with a “molto bene” and a wink from the waitress, ”)...but how would she know whether Anna's translation was good or not if she spoke little/no English? And if she did speak English she would not be talking in Italian to Anna, despite the latter (claiming) to know enough Italian to get by.
→ We have a scene of Anna, her brother, Benny, and his bf going into ‘Monteperso’ and passing a tabaccheria/BAR with “four sour-faced Italian men of indeterminate age leaning on the building and smoking cigarettes, seemingly in silence. They all turned to stare at the car as it approached, unsmiling. Benny gave a neighborly wave. They didn’t react. Not even to shift weight.”; 1st of all, if there are no tables outside, would they really be standing outside a tabaccheria to smoke? They would go to a bar with tables outside or a bench or whatever. Also, they would definitely be talking to each other. 2ndly, they wouldn’t be so blank-faced. if anything, if it's an area with little tourism, the locals would look puzzled by the sight of tourists/non-locals; the only instances where they would look more antagonistic is if the tourists in question were to be POC (but Anna & co are white so...here it makes 0 sense other than going for that 'there be strangers' horror trope); 3rdly…waving? What the fuck do you expect? For these elderly men to wave back? When I worked in Venice, I found waving tourists obnoxious, often they seemed uncaring of their surroundings (pushing people aside or getting too close to others), and excepted what…the locals to entertain them? Is this a zoo? An amusement park? Do the locals 'owe' you anything?
→ And don't even get me started on the overuse of "pentimento". It reminds me of how people (especially dabblers of artspeak) like to misuse/overuse 'chiaroscuro'. I understand that the word pentimento sounds cool to non-Italians, and the whole concept will certainly have an ‘edge’, but goodness me don't use it as a metaphor to describe things that have nothing to do with it. Sure, you can use art terms as metaphors for other things, but here, Thorne does it so much it just comes across as obnoxious, and especially ridiculous to an Italian speaker....more
luce (cry baby)
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